


To Be Made New

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 24/7, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bondage, Dom Original Percival Graves, Fluff and Smut, Happy Credence Barebone, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light BDSM, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, No Plot/Plotless, Not to worry, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Topping from the Bottom, everyone gets to cum, its a punishment shhh, sorta - Freeform, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 07:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11435616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Credence follows Percival into his usual haunt, which just happens to be a BDSM club. Awkwardness ensues.





	To Be Made New

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tell Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11426049) by [felix_atticus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felix_atticus/pseuds/felix_atticus), [xJuniperx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xJuniperx/pseuds/xJuniperx). 



> super duper inspired by this fic im linking. i wanted to know how the bois got into the relationship before graves started getting angsty.

Percival doesn’t glance up from his tumbler of whiskey for anything, most nights, because he wants to drown in it, slip into his memories and thoughts that are forbidden when he’s anywhere else but the club. When he’s at home, he has to be an extension of his work self, upstanding, respectable, important. A guardian and guide, for the young man in his care. Credence. His ward.

His responsibility.

His agony.

Why, Credence _doesn’t_ have a clue what kind of a temptation he presents, how can he? He just is so quiet, so gentle, so delicate in manner and appearance that it makes Percival want to break him apart with careful hands, steady strokes, to then put him back together better, and more beautiful than ever. He can’t know that all Percival dreams about is him, restrained beautifully in red ropes or walking around only in black lace that he’s bought for him, at his beck and call, ready to obey his every whim and wish.

He can’t know this, because then he would leave, he would run, and never look back.

How can Percival blame him? He’s only just escaped one tyrannical oppressing adult figure in his life. He’d likely break the building down and possibly maim Percival before leaving. He wouldn’t blame Credence for that reaction, not one bit. Once more, he swirls the glass, and watches the way the light reflects off the amber liquid inside. He’s tapping his shoe against the ground, wondering just how much longer he can stay away. His nightly retreat has started to wear on him.

Lying about where he goes and why he comes home so late is unfair to them both. Credence deserves some element of truth always, and he’s been doing so well, learning spells and charms and basic potions so quickly. He’s a miracle alright. In more ways than one. Someone taps on his chair, right at his shoulder, and he frowns, looking to find Molly staring at the door, but alerting him.

“What’s up?”

The music is loud, too loud sometimes, but never enough to drown out his thoughts completely. Molly’s blond curls glisten with silver sparkles under the lights, and she’s shouting back, her red lips perfectly coated in lipstick he knows would be ravishing on Credence’s plush mouth,

“Some kid’s here to see you, sir.”

Percival sits bolt upright and nearly drops his glass, as a tall and slim figure ascends the stairs, and looks sheepishly around the club, before beelining towards him.

“Credence.”

His eyes are locked on Percival now, and his mouth tries to twitch in a smile,

“Mister Graves. Forgive me. I followed you. I wanted to know where you were going. This doesn’t look like work, or the Blind Pig.”

The perfect lies and other life he’s crafted for so long are about to crash down around his ears, he thinks. Molly retreats graciously, and leaves Percival to face his own destruction.

“Credence… you shouldn’t have come here.”

“What is this place? It’s awfully noisy. A dance club? A bar with music and dancing?”

Percival chokes on a laugh at how innocent the boy is, to think what the writhing couples and triads on the floor are doing is _dancing_ , though, in a way certainly it is. With much less clothing than would normally be accepted in the average dance club.

“I can explain, but not here. Let’s go home.”

His home, not Credence’s. He was still just a guest, a guest who might wish to leave at any second. He knows. He’s known for months the peace between them was eggshell thin.

“Okay, Mister Graves.”

Percival tries not to wince at the sound of that. He despises such formality, especially as they leave the place where he would usually have a different form of address altogether. He puts his hand at the small of Credence’s back and can’t help but notice how it makes him shiver.

 

They vanish.

 

Upon landing in the living room, Percival staggers away, in need of more whiskey, preparing for the inevitable flood of questions from the boy. Instead, he looks back, hands frozen over the bartop, to find Credence watching him with a surprisingly steady gaze.

“Mister Graves?”

“Yes, what is it, my boy?”

He bites his tongue too late, the endearment slips out, and it’s there, hovering in the room between them, a physical presence.

“That place… wasn’t just a dance club, was it?”

Percival draws a ragged breath, and nods, downing his two fingers of liquor, before setting the empty glass down with a clunk, folding his arms in front of his chest. Credence has wide eyes and a curious expression.

“Was it something to do with sex?”

Percival nearly swallows his own tongue in shock, and indeed is grateful he finished off his drink.

“What?”

“Surely you don’t think I’m ignorant of things… that can happen between people? I’ve never seen the like, ropes and blindfolds, and things like that. But I could learn? If you wanted me… to.”

Percival blinks very rapidly, and begins to pace the room, trying and failing to recall just where Credence might have gotten such a wild and uninhibited idea of things of that nature.

Then he realizes exactly what the boy has just said.

“You… would want to try that, with me?”

His voice is an undignified squeak, and Credence nods eagerly, surprising him once more.

“Mister Graves… Sometimes I feel like I don't want to breathe without asking you for permission. I very much want to please you but I don't know how. Is there anything you can do to help me understand why I feel like this?”

Something is thudding inside his chest, threatening to dislodge his lungs, and he knows it was his heart, beating overtime, at the mere idea of the boy and him together.

“What do you want permission to do?”

In the blink of an eye, Credence is at his side, hands trembling, outstretched, begging for a touch without words,

“Anything. What would you like me to do, sir?”

“You think I want to order you around?”

Percival’s brain is screaming at him to stop lying to himself, to end the torture, now that he is finally on the way to getting what he wants, and his cock twitches in his trousers, wetting the fabric, desperate for that pink plush mouth to be put to use. Orders to do so are on the tip of his tongue, _‘Just tell him to kneel, just do it,’_ he thinks.

“Yes, I _know_ you do.”

“Has Queenie been teaching you mind reading tricks?”

His voice sounds strained, why is he made so weak by this idea? Wanting Credence on his knees, yesterday almost.

“Do you want to tie me up?”

Those slender wrists are thrust right at his chest, begging to be bound with something, even before he glances up, and sees pure need in the boy’s eyes. Percival’s mouth is watering at the idea. Black silk, he thinks, that would do nicely.

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

Credence’s smile is inviting, and wicked at the same time, so Percival grabs both of the boy’s hands in one of his own, and yanks him in, throwing off his balance, making him crash against his chest, as he puts his other hand to the back of his neck, guiding him in for a kiss, wet and sloppy, but heated.

As he can feel the boy melt into him, it makes him almost angry in a way, thinking about how much they could have been doing this before now, instead of having danced around each other and pretending there is nothing between them. He pulls Credence along to the closest bedroom, his own, and then spells away both of their clothing. There’s no point delaying, no more teasing.

“Mister Graves… you’re hard. What should I do?”

“You’re going to lay down on the bed, and not move. If you want to stop at any time, say so, or ‘red.’ If I ask your status and you say ‘green,’ that means I keep going. Okay?”

Credence nods.

“Say it.”

“Yes sir. I’m green.”

A flick of his wrist and then further black silk sprouts from the headboard, adding to the tie on the boy’s wrists. Another pair of ties wrap gently around his ankles, pulling him flat to the sheets, spread out perfectly for Percival to drink in the sight of. So much pale skin, unmarked over his front, long slender limbs that would probably wrap around him in a heartbeat, from a single touch.

His fingers twirl in midair and he watches Credence watching him. He’s always been in awe when he does wandless magic, and he never suspected why. It’s rather erotic, without meaning to be.

Percival finally makes contact with the boy’s skin, and it makes the boy jump, his back arches, from a slow stroke over his chest, down his ribs and just before his navel.

“Please! Mister Graves… I need-”

He cuts himself off mid sentence, and Percival smirks.

“You need to obey me. Don’t you?”

“Yes sir.”

The boy didn’t look away from his own waist in the entire time he has been carefully bound to the bed, and Percival puts a hand to his neglected cock, hissing out a low breath, and seeing Credence’s chest heave.

“If I tell you not to come before me, will you be able to obey?”

“I’m not sure sir.”

He can appreciate honesty, and by no means has the boy been practicing with himself enough to hold off, so he avoids touching Credence’s own cock, and slides his hand between the boy’s legs, feeling out for his virgin hole, watching how he shudders through it.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?”

“No.”

“Not even through exploration?”  
“No sir.”

“Tell me the truth.”

Credence’s eyes snap open, and his jaw goes slack from where he’s been worrying his bottom lip in his teeth, almost bloody.

Percival knows he has him when he clicks his fingers and slick begins to drip from the boy’s cleft onto the sheets.

“I think of you when I finger myself, sir.”

Oh.

Percival did not predict this answer, this blunt honesty. He fists his cock very briefly, and lets go when he can feel the coil building up too quickly. He is going to have a very hard time resisting the urge to just give in and fuck Credence. His not so innocent ward.

“How long have you done that?”

Credence lets out a low whimper, and Percival withdraws his hand, he’s barely nudged a fingertip into the boy’s hole, but he sees how it makes his slender cock pulse out a dribble of precome onto his stomach, so he knows it is tempting. Pushing him closer and closer.

“Three weeks now sir.”

“You’ve stayed under my roof that long, and thought of me, but never approached me.”

“I’m sorry sir. I thought you didn’t want me.”

Percival exhales a puff of air, and throws all the rules to wind, damn it all. He wants to kiss the boy’s insecurity away, and he’ll do his best to try.

He kneels onto the bed, and leans over Credence, trying to ignore how it makes his heart skip a beat to see such unbridled delight in the boy’s eyes, just before their lips meet.

He feels how Credence strains slightly against the ties that bind him, trying to push himself closer, to kiss back harder, and it makes him smile.

“Sweet boy, you may come for me. If you like.”

A full body shiver, and then Credence is gasping beneath him, arching his back hard, as his cock pulses out onto his stomach and up his chest, all from gentle touches and his words.

“Mister Graves… I didn’t know such a thing was possible…”  He sounds wrecked, and when Percival moves back to look down at him, he can see tears dampening the boy’s long dark lashes, with his bitten pink lips and heaving chest, he looks the picture of perfect and beautiful sated submission.

“I didn’t either.”

“Have you had many others… like me?”

Percival pets a hand down his neck, to dip his fingers into the creamy spend streaking over his skin,

“Not at all. No one has ever piqued my interest like you, my boy.”

He brings his hand up, presses his fingers into the boy’s mouth, which he opens for at once, obedient, pliant, deliciously eager.

“I wonder if you can suck my cock with the same dutiful attention?”

Credence nods almost immediately, as a flare of heat runs down his spine. He pulls his hand away slowly, dripping with saliva now, he shifts in closer, moving to straddle the boy’s chest, his hard cock just barely taps across the boy’s chin.

“Stop when I tell you. Nod if you understand.”

Credence nods again promptly, practically beaming, and Percival can’t resist caressing his cheek, thumbing over the plump curve of his lips. When he guides his cock to press over them, Credence opens his mouth once more, letting his pink tongue peek out and flick against the slit, forcing his hips to jerk forward of their own accord.

“Fuck... Credence.”

The boy just hums, and yawns wider, showing off the cavern of his throat, begging for Percival to give him more, so he does, thrusting slightly deeper, until Credence’s lips are stretched taut around the girth of his cock, and his head falls forward, so he’s resting his forehead against the back of his arm, bracing on the top of the bed.

His eyes close, and a groan crawls out of his throat, egging Credence on, making him suckle harder, and lick so fast against the underside of his cock that it feels like a wicked vibration, threatening to make him come very soon.

He decides at the last minute not to order the boy to stop, but instead, he reaches down to grasp at the boy’s jaw, and carefully pulls back, so that he can stroke over himself, jerking hard and fast, until he is shuddering out a moan, coming in hot and thick stripes over Credence’s lovely face.

White drips from his lashes and down his cheeks like obscene tears, and his boy only smiles, giddy, trying to lick what he can reach with his tongue.

“You didn’t-”

“I know, my boy. I just couldn’t resist the chance to see you covered in my come. If I’d waited to be inside you, it would be nearly as nice. Now. I wonder if you’ll last with me riding you?”

Credence blinks, confusedly, as his eyebrows meet, and Percival laughs, before snapping his fingers again, and reaching behind his back, thumbing over his own ass, eyeing the boy’s renewing erection. Oh to be young again.

“Sir, you don’t mean-”

“Yes. I do.”

He shifts lower, and grinds down on Credence’s cock, ripping a gasp from him, and his arms visibly strain against the ties once more. Luckily they are magically enforced, so that no amount of pulling or struggling can tear the silk. Only the words _‘no’_ or _‘stop’_ from Credence’s lips can do such a thing.

“You want me to _fuck_ you sir?”

He struggles over the curse, just slightly, and Percival smiles indulgently down at him, stroking the side of his cheek, cleaning his face without a word.

“Yes.”

Slowly, carefully, he eases backwards, and watches as Credence sinks into him, inch by glorious inch, until his own breath is coming hard, and he can feel muscles he’s not used in ages beginning to ache.

“Sir… it’s too much, I can’t-”

“Shh-hh. Don’t talk unless you need to say stop.”

Percival grips hard at the boy’s shoulder, and then pets down his chest, before leaning in close, changing the angle slightly, and letting their mouths meet up once again. Credence pants into the kiss, and then lets out a keening sound as Percival lifts up and falls down again, his own heart racing slightly, arousal licking against him like the boy’s tongue has done moments ago.

His cock remains soft throughout a few more up and down strokes, until he gives in and finally touches himself, watching as Credence seems to force his eyes open to watch, trying to bend his knees to get more leverage, and increases the friction between them.

He is humming to himself to keep from speaking, Percival suspects, as he grunts through another roll of the boy’s hips, exhaling as he feels Credence’s cock brush right against his prostate, angling just so that he’ll probably be able to come again very soon. He continues to move, rocking back and forth, and he sees Credence’s face scrunch up, and he can feel how his body shivers, wound tight as a bowstring.

“Do you have something to say?”

“Can I come sir? Please?”

“If I say no, will you be able to resist?”

He squeezes purposefully over Credence, just to see what he’ll do, in response he sees the boy’s eyes widening, and he stumbles over his words,

“N-Please! I can’t-”

Warmth blossoms inside him, and Percival sits back on his heels, clucking his tongue, frowning at him, while secretly pleased that Credence has been overwhelmed with pleasure, and spilled into him. For his first time fucking anyone, he did rather well. He didn’t get up and off the boy’s cock, he stays close on Credence, charming him to stay hard, wondering if he will even notice.

He seems awash in his aftershocks, mindless and unaware as Percival starts moving again, seeking after his own climax, his head falling back, hands grasping over sweaty skin, desperate for purchase.

He isn’t hard yet, but his orgasm rushes through him nonetheless, purely from stimulation by Credence’s wonderful cock, and he stills eventually to ride it out, clenching down.

“How are you feeling, my boy?”

“G-green as ever sir.”

“You came without my permission.”

Credence nods, eyes wide, wet from tears, unbidden perhaps, and Percival thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful. Not even in all the moments he’s run into the boy in the hallway, or shared a meal with him, and ached to kiss him. No, this couldn’t compare.

“How should I punish you?”

Credence merely blinks, and Percival knows, in that searing instant, there is no way he’ll ever be able to properly discipline him, not when he carries so many scars on his back and the palms of his hands, still healing true, but no doubt painful. Unless the boy absolutely begs for it, he will never.

“Eyes on me, I’m going to fuck you now.”

He is hard now and cannot possibly dream to last long, but the gloriously tight and hot and wet grip of Credence’s ass around his cock will be something to savor another time, when he is more coherent, he’ll take his time, breaking him down with his fingers and tongue until he is screaming for more.

For tonight, he charms Credence’s fluttering hole to relax just enough to take him, and when he eases back and kneels to worship between his legs and thrusts in, Percival’s eyes fall shut as he finally bottoms out.

“Mister Graves… sir… it’s too much.”

“My boy, you’re not telling me what I want to hear.”

“Don’t stop. I can take it.”

He chuckles, breathless, and then swoops in to kiss the boy, the second he can feel his orgasm crashing into him, and he dissolves the ties with a quick spell, allowing Credence’s legs to shakily wrap around his waist, keeping him close, while his arms cling to his neck, and he shudders beneath Percival.

By the time he is done trembling, and nearly collapsing atop the boy, Credence is whimpering and mewling, rolling his hips and silently asking to come again too.

Percival turns them, shifting onto his side so that he can pull out, and reach between them to jerk Credence off with the last vestiges of his strength.

He curls up into Percival’s chest, taking great gasps of air, before putting a hand to his sweaty chest, over his pounding heartbeat.

“M-mister Graves?”

“Yes my boy?”

“Can we do that again?”

“Mercy lewis. You’re trying to kill me.”

“Not right now. I just mean, the ties and such?”

“You like being restrained like that?”

“Yes sir.”

He hums, and snuggles closer, so that Percival can put an arm over his back, and hug him tightly. He presses a kiss to the boy’s temples, getting a mouthful of hair for his trouble, and he wants to laugh.

“Alright. Anything you want next time.”

“Thank you.”

“Please, just call me Percival when we’re not… doing that.”

“Okay. Percival.”

“Get some rest, Credence.”

Another hum, and Percival snaps his fingers to kill the lights, and draws up a blanket, feeling his boy’s breathing even out, as his own exhaustion overwhelms him.

 

* * *

 

 

**END**


End file.
